Daybreaks are beautiful
by halcyonranhuer
Summary: Tsuna isn't as tough as he looks or seems to be. Platonic/non-platonic/parental R27. Oneshot.


**I am so sorry. I am just putting older stray stories I've written as a buffer for my other stories. Sorry if it was all R27, I was stuck in that hell then. I am so super busy as of current, but updates will be within the next two weeks.**

 **This story is slightly of a darker tone. Feel free to interpret the relation between Tsuna and Reborn, because I am just all-for-grabs when it comes down to R27. I love to thank all of you who have supported me.**

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The night seems to drone on endlessly. Starless and monotonous, like a black splotch of paint, it leans wearily on top of the thickening clouds that slowly gather. He will wait patiently, occasionally glancing at the parted bit between the curtains, to hopefully catch sight of the first daylight.

Because there is some form of phenomenal reasoning for its assurance.

And Tsuna would always relish it.

Then, the day becomes part of the usual Vongola Decimo's routine.

Today is an exception however. He should have known earlier, his instincts blares alarm signals at him, his gut churns his insides madly, his hyper intuition flaring at maximum; but he lets them be.

Tsuna stares at the documents on his mahogany desk, not moving. He liftshis head up and looks blankly at his panicking secretary saying something he does not quite understand.

What does he mean, that the plane from Namimori Japan crashed?

What does he mean, that the Varia went missing from a simple mission?

What does he mean, that the car from the Callavone mansion exploded?

What does he mean, that the CEDEF's main company building collapsed?

What does he mean, that the rest of Acrobaleno suddenly became uncontactable?

Tsuna nods. Numbness coursing through his entire hand and then into his body, wriggling its way into his heart. If he may describe it, this would be when the horrors realization finally struck. But Tsuna doesn't flinch; his face just remains as it is. He has long forgotten what he used to do. His emotions either limits him to a smile or nothing.

Why isn't Reborn answering?

Then he quickly acts, body suddenly feeling on fire; and he doesn't know why. He doesn't know why his chest burns. He can't remember what he is shouting, or why he is shouting for the matter. He can't remember how many calls he dialled. He can't remember why he buried himself in the archives. Everything's in a swirling mess and he doesn't know why.

He just feels numb, even after everything.

The nights now seem to reign longer, and daybreaks become detestable. Something about how the sun rays filters through the glass panes irks him, tugs at something forbidden and Tsuna is send reeling back onto his work, a temporal haven.

"All these incidents might be related to the XXXX familgia who is on the Vongola's Blacklist. We thought that they have been lying low recently, but we can also take it as them secretly forming collaborations with other Vongola's rival familgia." Fuuta rambles as he grips the reports.

Tsuna isn't listening. He thinks of terrible deeds; dark, twisted deaths in the most torturous manner, so disgustingly diabolical, that will make his 14-year-old-self die on the pedestal of self-flaming shame and regret.

"Where is Reborn?" Is all he croaks out. At the corner of his eye, he sees Fuuta biting his lips and giving a sympathetic look. It seems like the respect he used to have for the older has somewhere along the way, simply wane into pity.

Tsuna never likes pity. Despite his appearance, whatever morals and principles he carries, he carries it with the pride of a lion.

"Reborn… we can't be too sure that…"

Tsuna waves his hand, a sign of dismissal. He doesn't want to listen. It has been the same script since the ten reports ago.

"Tell Gianini to thoroughly go through all reports using another network, there will be more chance on finding more private information. Also, contact the Cozart familgia, we need their aid for information resource on the shadow Mafia familgia the arse boss of XXXX is dealing with. Sorry for troubling you with all this, Fuuta."

"It is alright. I am actually glad that Tsuna-nii relies on me to help." The boy shakes his head and exits the room.

Tsuna turned to the windows again, he breathes and his chest burns. His heart clenches painfully. His nose stings. But there were no sniffles and his eyes remain dry. Will anyone blame him for killing indiscriminately for once? He wonders how the beast inside him could unleash any moment, devouring and burning its way through and when he's done, he'll feast his eyes on the multitude of corpses of his enemies.

And no one can blame him.

Because he's the boss.

And they killed his family, who are Tsuna's everything- his life, soul, body, blood, sweat; and they just robbed of him all that under his nose. But he knew better restraint and he just clasps his hands fervently. Truthfully, he doesn't know who to pray to.

"The plane that crash was not the one Nana and the others took. They were late due to traffic. And when Hibari heard that the plane crashed, he went around sniffing for rats. Sasagawa and Yamamato joined in as well. They prevented contact so as not to incur enemy suspicion."

Tsuna leans back, he is shaking.

"The Varia was ambushed. But they survived the ordeal, now recovering in hospital and blowing said hospital up. Contact failed due to the other party forgetting to bring another extra supply of batteries. Rokudo Mukuro, whom was given a different mission in the same area, is now contactable and he explained that he found enemy bases laying around."

Tsuna feels the blood flowing through his hands again.

"Dino wasn't in that car. He tripped on the staircase and had to be treated for a broken nose. One of his men was called to personally apologise to Tsuna-nii, though he was caught in the explosion, he survived with severe injuries. He's getting better from what I've heard, using sun flame treatment."

Tsuna's fingers twitches and he realizes he's breathing properly.

"Sawada Iemitsu, Basil and most of the main force is not in the building when in collapsed. However, I do regret to inform that there were some casualties during then. Gokudera Hayato, who happened to be flying back from a secret conference is Germany, now has part of the list on the possible familgia suspects."

Tsuna sees the pen in his hands shaking. Something clicks and tells him that he doesn't need to write condolences regarding his father.

"Bossu, the rest of the Acrobaleno just had their lines hacked to cause mass confusion. All of them are alright."

Tsuna then remembers, those ex-infants were once and still may possibly be, the strongest in their respective areas. He doesn't feel the cold chills which creeps up his spine anymore.

"Chaos."

And then, Tsuna can hear his heart beating, beating so fast it hurts to death. Tsuna 'smiles'.

When everything ends, it will be the time after a month, two weeks and 4 days. Tsuna wrecks with relief, his knees end up buckling after all the tension, which is why he remains seated with everyone now gathering in the room, with the exception of his father- presumably now with his mother.

There are shouts, screams and explosions. But Tsuna didn't mind the noises. He doesn't bother why he thinks of putting everyone (be they hazardous or psychotic) into the same room. He doesn't. Because he's so numbed and relieved.

"Hey trash." Xanxus stalks up to him, which he would never do, stares down at him. He gives the same look as Fuuta, despite their so contradictory, north-south, east-west personalities. But Tsuna doesn't flinch.

"You look sick." Xanxus comments, his tone the closest shred to Xanxus' sounding concern at all. Whatever noise in the room comes to an abrupt halt, which is relatively hilarious especially how it likens to musical chairs.

And then, a maelstrom of exploding worries 'graced' the room. Tsuna, after many years of practice, avoids everything with ease, just went to bed to quell it, or half of it at least. (Xanxus doesn't look that pleased. Gokudera yelling something about Shamal.)

"Chaos."

"Reborn." He says dryly.

"Dame-Tsuna, how long have you been like this?" The man asks, no, demands.

"I don't know. I forgot since when I started loving first daylight."

"What did I say about taking care of your health?"

"I forgot." Tsuna says lamely. But he has been 'dame' for a reason, even he has grown out of it, he will still use that old shell of his as a pathetic excuse if he has to.

And Reborn knows that.

Reborn clicks his tongue, he doesn't blink. Because right now, the back of Vongola Decimo is small and hunched over, shoulders slacked and tired, his limbs are thin- reflecting, what is that word, fragility. Reborn thinks that if he touches him, Decimo will dissipate like dust. Reborn still doesn't blink; he knows that if he does, that image will disappear and replace that with a fearless young prowling head of the Vongola Mafia.

Sometimes he forgets Vongola Decimo is Sawada Tsunayoshi, a once upon a time fourteen-year-old child who knew nothing but civilian life and cowardliness. And even if that child does grow up, the man isn't made of impregnable walls of emotional and physical defences.

He carries burdens since fourteen and lives with it without a shred of complain.

Come to think of it, has Tsuna even broken down once? Maybe the often stumped-in-the-battle or not-know-what-do-in-the-moment, but Tsuna hasn't broken out hysterical at all, even despite (seemingly) having extreme paranoia and the tendency to over worry things.

And then all clicks.

That Dame-Tsuna isn't so dame at all.

That he wears a far better mask than Reborn and it irks the older man to no end knowing that.

"Tsuna." He says.

There was no reply.

"I'm here." He continues.

Tsuna feels numbed, like something being block out, and he doesn't know what is it; because he has been wearing that damn mask for so long he doesn't even know what exactly accounts to emotions.

Tsuna doesn't say anything. He just feels the warm hand on his shoulders, because he knows in the depth of Reborn's dark eyes, they will reflect the same as everyone else.

Concern, not pity.

Pity, not concern.

He really doesn't know anymore.

Trembling slightly, he then feels trails of wetness on his cheeks. Then he cried, his feelings pouring, all for the first time, since the night his father left home when he was ten.

The daylight doesn't feel so endearing nor so disgusting for now. It is just as it is, and Tsuna would wait for moment when he stays awake for the morning to come again. But for now, he will relish in the black darkness, where there is nothing but him and Reborn.

After all, even the hitman feels warmer than the designer armchair he so often sits on.

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 **Sorry for the bitter-sweet ending haha.**


End file.
